Ovid's Metamorphoses Plus One

I am located in a park, where I am contemplating adjacent trees. One tree in particular has caught my attention. With each thought I feel ever more at one with this tree. How can I contemplate trees without becoming one? Just think what happened to Narcissus, who turned into a daffodil. Or the nymph Daphne, who became a laurel tree. What's so bad about being a tree anyway? Is not it a good thing to put down roots? But what about the loss of mobility that would follow? Trees have carefree lives, though. No taxes, rushing to work, paying bills. On the other hand in my present state I need not worry about woodworm, acid rain, being pruned, woodpeckers or serving the needs of leg-lifting dogs. And family affairs? Hmm.. Do I want my kids to be nuts? It's all very well to branch out - in metaphoric terms, that is. Oh, that board meeting! It’s time to go. Hey, my limbs are stiff. I can’t move my trunk. My fingers are green. Silly thought, no one turns into a tree these days! Aaaaahhhhh! Swish, swish. Rustle rustle..